The Battle of the four Kindreds
by HuntressDiana
Summary: Atuvinel, Daughter of Aragorn and Arwen, has returned from the Havens, bringing with her Frodo and Gandalf. The Fellowship is now reunited. But she and her brother are being sought by Sauron's son Agaron and she must defend her home against his armies.
1. Disclaimer

Hey this is a disclaimer I forgot to post when I posted the chapter so here it is so I don't get sued or anything!!

I only own Atuvinel and any characters or verses you don't recognise! The plot is mine and if you want to take this story to a site please do ask me. I just want to know where it's going. Aragorn, Arwen, Frodo ect all belong to J.R.R Tolkein and I am receiving zippo money from this, only praise from me reviewers. 

By the way do please read and review, it means a lot to me. 


	2. Chapter One: the crossing of the Sea

**Battle of the four kindreds.**

**By HuntressDiana.**

****

**Chapter one: The crossing of the sea.**

A grey ship drew close to the land. The dark green sails were embroidered with a silver tree for a banner. Cirdain the shipwright stood at the prow, looking out towards the land longingly. His arm ceremonially rose and pointed towards the north. As soon as the gangplank hit the earth with a loud clatter that resounded clearly in the still air a great silver horse rose on its hind legs and pawed at the air. His rider urged him back on all fours and whispered soothing words into his ear. Wrapping the grey cloak tighter around their slim body, the rider urged the horse on. With a great leap, both horse and rider landed securely on the shore. With great, powerful strides, the rider cradled low over their steed's gracefully arched neck, the two sped into the silver-grey twilight.

At the edge of a beautiful wood of mallorn trees, with a small cluster of houses placed a stone's throw away from the nearest tree, the rider halted and threw back her hood. She led her mount over to a fresh flowing clear stream and left him there to rest. For her however, rest was further away, she crossed to the green curved door of the nearest house and softly knocked at the door. 

An old man, small in stature, perhaps a head smaller than she, answered the summons, remarkably swiftly. He seemed surprised when his eyes fell upon her,

"Good evening." He greeted her politely neither the less. She sank into a small curtsey.

"Good evening sir. I am searching for some companions of my father who travelled across the Sundering Sea some fourteen winters ago. A company of five they were; two hobbits, one wizard and two elf lords."

"And you have found them." A new figure entered the small hallway, a younger man, also small in stature, dark haired and eyed, who bore a great resemblance to the older man. "We are the two hobbits of whom you have spoken. I am Frodo, son of Drogo and this is my uncle, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire." To both the hobbits' surprise she sank again into a deep curtsey.

"My Lords, I have travelled many leagues across Middle Earth to find you."

"To find us…" the younger hobbit began to speak, but his uncle interrupted him to usher their young guest inside.

"Come in, come in. The others you have been seeking are within, in the main parlour." She stepped inside willingly, out of the bitter night, for although the stars were bright and shining and she was well used to sleeping outside, a frost lay on the ground. As the hobbits led her into the main parlour the sound of talking came to her ears, along with the warm crackling sound of a fire. She passed under a low archway into the circle of chairs. The room became silent. Frodo turned to ask their guest her name and finally was able to see her clearly; she had thrown her grey cloak back, revealing a slim body clad in moss green. A sword was girt at her side on a belt of silver and leather and a quiver of arrows and bow hung on her back. She carried them with the unconscious air of one who is confident in weaponry. Her hair was long and dark and flowed straight down her back. Her face was beautiful, with the delicacy of elves but the warmth and plain strength of man, and lit with laughter. Excitement shone in her eyes and she stepped forward into the circle of the firelight. 

"My Lord Frodo, Master Bilbo, Lord Gandalf the White and most wise Elrond halfelven," she sank into a curtsey as she greeted each, straightening she began to introduce herself and her errand, "I am the daughter of King Elessar of Gondor and Queen Arwen Undómiel." Exclamations rang out from the assembled company who rose from their seats instantly and greeted her in their turn, Elrond looked fondly down at her, for she resembled clearly Lùthien Tinùvinel of old and he knew how fond the dream of children had lain to his daughter's heart. Frodo spoke courteously, bowing in turn,

"Fair Lady, may we know your name and the reason you have searched for us?"

"My name is Atùvinel and I am also called Undómiel after my mother and far kindred Lùthien. My father bade me search for the Fellowship of the Ring and entreat them to return to Middle Earth and to Minas Tirith for he has great need of aid and wisdom." Gandalf rose from his seat again and leaning slightly on his oak staff, moved towards her.

"Why did he send you Lady? Why not a trusted messenger?"

"Because, my Lord, it is written in the lore of Gondor that only one of noble birth with knowledge of the lands can cross the Sea to the Havens and yet hope to return. My father could not spare Eldarion, my brother, so I was sent." She took the seat offered to her and leaned forward slightly, her eyes flickering between the companions; she spoke again after a brief pause, continuing with her story, "My father did not make the decision to send me easily or willingly. The parting was hard and neither did I leave with a light heart.

"Many score leagues I have travelled, over many countries. It was a score and ten weeks ago that I bade my parents and brother farewell and rode out from Minas Tirith, and I miss them greatly. But I send letters from any courier points we pass and receive few in return. Your kinsmen Masters Frodo and Bilbo bore news of my progress to my father when we parted." Frodo suddenly bent forward, eager for news.

"You visited the Shire?"

"Yes my Lord, five weeks past."

*End of chapter one! Well? Do you like? Please do review as the more reviews I get the quicker I write and post chapters. Either post a review here at ff.net or email me at Dianahunters@yahoo.co.uk. All reviews will be answered personally, but if I take sometime to answer don't worry, I will get around to it as soon as possible. If you like this let me know and I will put you on my mailing list which basically means I'll email you whenever I post a new chapter, either of this one or my 'Dark is Rising' story, 'The Six, the Three and the One.' Hey- go read that one too please, and review me!!!!!

**HuntressDiana**

**xxxxx**


	3. Chapter Two: Call of the Eorlingas

**Chapter Two: the call of the Eorlingas.**

**Thanks to my first reviewer, here's chapter two. If you do read, please just take a second to review, it does mean the world to me. Thank you and Merry Christmas and have a great new year!!!!**

A company mounted on horses approached the West-farthing gate of the Shire. The leader swung herself off her horse and threw the reins over her mount's neck. She took a second to soothe her mount, before walking to the gate and ringing the bell mounted on the post. She then swung herself back up into the saddle and remounted with ease. The door of the gatehouse opened and a hobbit walked out slowly, carrying a lantern high.

"Hello?" his voice rang loud in the silence. A young man, barely twenty-five rode forwards, putting his horse before the Lady's and drew a deep breath to announce their mission.

"We are come from Gondor, sent by The King Elessar the Elfstone from the city of Minas Tirith, to seek his companions from years past and recall their services to his land."****

"Aye?" said the hobbit cautiously, "and who are you trying to find Masters?" The Lady steered her mount around the man's, to step a couple of paces forwards, until the shoulders of her steed were equal to those of the announcer's. 

" We seek Mayor Samwise of Hobbiton, Thain Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland." The hobbit's face relaxed somewhat. He knew these names, and the fact that they were friends of the King of the Big People. His formal tone lapsed into the easy, soft accent of the Shire. 

"And who might you be missie?"

The messenger pushed forwards once more, 

"We ride with the Lady Atùvinel, Lady of the Dûnedain, Princess of the realm of Gondor and the North and daughter of King Aragorn and Queen Arwen Evenstar." The hobbit bowed deeply and spoke regretfully, 

"My Lady. I wish I could do as you ask, but Laws forbid any man setting foot in the Shire."

"This is a special case…" The man broke in. "We have the King's leave."

"No." Atùvinel spoke, "We must still follow the laws of the Land. May I cross the borders of your land Master Holbytla?  For I am no man. See, I leave my Sword and weapons my men, save my bow which I shall keep for my safety against any wild animals." As the hobbit slowly began to nod, she unbuckled her sword belt and handed it, and her dagger to another man, who wrapped it tightly in a cloth. The leader of the men protested,

"Lady…" 

"Bergil. I shall be fine. I can shoot well, as you know and it is not far between here and Buckland." Bergil answered reluctantly,

"Very well. But take great care."

"I will." She promised. "Then Watchman, may I pass?"

"Yes, my Lady. If you ride hard to the east, you shall reach Buckland just after dusk falls." 

The gates man began to move to open the gate.

"Do not trouble yourself sir, Nafalon can easily clear the gate." Her mount took two great strides back then leaped cleanly over the gate bar. Atùvinel turned in the saddle.

"We shall meet again in the late morn." She called. She stayed only for a nod of agreement from Bergil. Then she and Nafalon sped along the road, her cloak spreading wide behind her.

She rode long throughout the day but Nafalon needed no urging, it seemed as if he sensed his rider's need for urgency and speed. He was foaled of Shadowfax the great, steed of Gandalf Greyhaeme and Asfalof of Rivendell. So, he bore in his veins the blood of the Prince of the horses of Rohan and the Elf steed of Glorfindel.

She drew near to the edges of Buckland as dusk began to fall. She rode more gently into a square in the centre of the town. She had never been in the Shire before, but had memorised maps of the area whilst riding. When, looking around she could see no hobbit to ask the whereabouts of Merry or Pippin's houses from, reluctantly Atùvinel drew her horn from the folds of her cloak. It was beautiful, skilfully made of silver and ivory, it was engraved with many runes, both of Dwarf make and Elf. Atùvinel raised the horn to her lips and sent out into the night the call of the riders of Rohan. 

'_Forth Eorlingas! Forth the sons of Eorl! Come to the great golden hall of your fathers!'_

 She pulled the horn away from her lips and breathed in the crisp night air deeply before sending out the signal again. This time an answering call came from the North. She let the horn fall loose at her side, the silver chain crossing her chest, glinting bright in the moonlight. Leading Nafalon, Atùvinel headed in the direction of the answering horn call. She drew near to the outskirts of the town before she rounded a small hill and saw a large hobbit, hastily stuffed into breeches and shirt illuminated in the door of a hobbit hole. Quietly, before he could sound another blast on his horn, she called,

"Master Meriadoc?"

"Yes?" The figure stepped forward, "Who is it?"

"Atùvinel of Gondor."

"Lady! What are you doing in the Shire? And at such an hour? Why do you blow the call of Rohan?" Before she answered Atùvinel let go of Nafalon and he wandered to the Green. She quickly unsaddled him, leaving him to rest in peace and comfort. Before she could begin to answer any of Merry's questions he stepped out along the path with a lantern in his hand. He swiftly ushered her inside his home. Merry Brandybuck's hole wasn't usual for a hobbit hole in Buckland. For one it was uncommonly large, Atùvinel did not have to duck under the mantle to cross the threshold, but then Merry was also uncommonly large for a hobbit, an effect of the Ent draught he had been given in Fangorn forest. It was also filled with mementos of his travels. His wife Estella Bolger came out of the bedroom, wrapped in a robe.

"Who is it Merry?"

"Lady Atùvinel." She dropped into a small curtsey. Merry ushered Atùvinel into a large, round room with chairs and a large fireplace.

"What brings you to the Shire Lady? And why the summons?"

"My father sent me to gather the Fellowship of the Ring. I was told to say that you should ride to Minas Tirith with all haste and speed possible.

"Why?" Merry immediately rose and lifted a sword off the wall, holding it in his hands for a long time before putting it on the table before him.

"Father said that a threat has risen once more from the ruins of the East. Sauron seems to have trained a son to take over in his realm if he should fall. He was not as arrogant as he seemed to be."

Merry turned in surprise,

"A son?"

"Yes, and from an evil union. Agaron he is called." Merry let out a bitter laugh.

"He is well named." For in the dwarf speech 'Agaron' means 'black heart'.

The two talked long into the night, Atùvinel telling Merry about her father and mother and Merry regaling her with tales of happier days, of his, Pippin's, Frodo's and Sam's lives in the Shire before the coming of the Ring. Marry, Pippin and Sam had frequently visited the court when Atùvinel and her brother Eldarion were growing up. They had become like uncles to her and the formalities of 'Lady' and 'Master' were soon cast away. They finally slept in the early hours of the morning.

They rose late, as the sun was climbing halfway towards its peak. After Merry had packed and bidden Estella farewell they rode to Thain Peregrin's hole and went through the same ritual. Atùvinel and Merry explained the situation to Pippin and his wife Diamond, then the three rode to Bag End an hour later.

The three hobbits and Atùvinel rejoined an anxious Bergil at the gate and rode together for many leagues, until their roads parted, half the company riding with the hobbits to Gondor, the other half accompanying Atùvinel to the shores of the Sundering Sea, where she boarded a ship to bear her to the Havens.


	4. Chapter Three: Return to Middle Earth

Chapter Three: Return to Middle Earth.

"It was two weeks ago your kinsmen left us, they will have reached Minas Tirith with ease."

Gandalf stood,

"Well Lady, I at least will ride with you, for I have rested well here and I would see Aragorn again." Before Atùvinel could voice her thanks, Frodo, who had been silent ever since Atùvinel had begun to speak, rose also.

"I too will ride with you Lady. For I too wish to see Aragorn again, but also my kinsmen Merry, Sam and Pippin." Bilbo and Elrond both declined the offer, Bilbo on account of his age and Elrond as he said that it was not for him to do anything but give wisdom in this age of Middle Earth. However he took Atùvinel aside and they conferred long into the evening. She emerged into the large room again, a letter folded close in her hand, which she tucked securely into her quiver of arrows. They were long and slender, tipped with silver metal and steadied with grey feathers. The quiver was not unlike the one that Frodo had seen Legolas Greenleaf the Elf bearing on their long quest. 

Swiftly she unloaded her horse and left it to graze and roam as he would. She began to make a bed of blankets on the hearth but noon of the companions would allow that, and they showed her into a small room, previously unnoticed, simply containing a bed and small table. 

She sat at this for a while, staring longingly out the window towards her homeland. There was some fear and uncertainty in her eyes, for she had no way of knowing whether she would ever see her home or her family ever again, for no one had ever crossed to the Havens and returned.

The next morning she awoke with the sunlight on her face to find that Gandalf and Frodo were ready to leave. After a light breakfast Atùvinel gratefully received provisions which she stored in her horse's packs. When they were ready to bid Elrond and Bilbo goodbye she led her horse over to the group. 

"This is Nafalon. We grew up together, his sire Shadowfax waits at the shores of the sea for his master: Gandalf the white to return. None except I and my brother have ridden him since your parting, and then only in jest. For he will bear no other and his gaze in the stable often turns this way." Gandalf nodded, deep in thought and together, he mounted a horse and Frodo a pony. Atùvinel swung up into her saddle last and turned, standing upright in the stirrups.

"Namárië Elrond, Halfelven, Grandfather. Namárië Bilbo of the Shire."

"Goodbye. Bring Frodo back soon won't you? And be sure to add this into that big red book of yours, my boy."

"I will Bilbo, I will." 

"Namárië Elf daughter. Namárië."

Nafalon wheeled and together the two cantered down the road, the hobbit and wizard following. 

It is said that one journey across the sea is blessed, but the second journey is not so kind. A day and a night they voyaged, sleeping restlessly and anticipating their return to Middle Earth; Atùvinel with the joy that comes with homecoming, Frodo with delight at the though of seeing his friends again, but worry about their role to play, Gandalf thought over what Atùvinel had told them, then slept. 

They disembarked and were startled to see a small company of armed men, not in the livery of the tower, but that of the white wood of Ithilien, waiting for them. One man, dressed not in the common livery, that of a green tunic and mail, with silver acorns beneath a white mallorn tree, but with gold acorns, stepped forward, leaving his horse with another rider.

"My Lady." Atùvinel smiled and nodded and she reined Nafalon in.

"Bergil. Lords Frodo and Gandalf; this is Bergil, son of Beregond. My father has ordered him to shadow my every move. He follows me everywhere." She moved among the men, after introducing Bergil, laughing and greeting each as a friend and a long companion. Every man bowed slightly in the saddle as she passed but spoke to her as a niece, not as a Princess. 

Bergil explained to the hobbit and the wizard that they would begin riding immediately and would hope to reach the walls of Minas Tirith three days hence. Atùvinel trotted over to them again, leading a great, silver-white horse, with a smooth mane and coat. He bore himself proudly, head high and neck straight. As soon as he sensed his old master he whinnied. Atùvinel leant over from her seat on Nafalon to whisper in Shadowfax's ear. Then, with a pat on his withers, she sent him to his master.

Bergil assembled the company on the path, some ahead of Atùvinel, Frodo and Gandalf, some behind. They travelled at quite a fast pace, but not punishing for the horses. Atùvinel informed Frodo and Gandalf of changes in the realm where her father reigned, for it seemed that she was well versed in the doings of the land and of all it's people. She told of the routing of the Southrons, and the meeting of the rest of the Fellowship. The rest of the journey she spent in conference with Bergil and some other men, who Frodo learned to be Rangers.

The second day travelling east they camped near the fair woods of Ithilien. Atùvinel however did not dismount for long. She cast her saddlebags on the ground and remounted.

"I go to the courier post." She called, "Bergil, Mandmar will ride with me." A tall fair man on a dark roan horse trotted up to her side, he was a ranger and wore the same green and brown garments that Aragorn used to wear, as Strider. Bergil nodded his consent from his kneeling position on the ground, where he was struggling to light a fire.

The men began to prepare for the night, but Frodo and Gandalf drew near to the main fire, and the small group of men huddled there. As they sat on logs, Bergil, clearly the leader of the company, dismissed the other men to go and start their own fires and cook what food they had. There were in total, perhaps ten men in the clearing where they camped. 

Frodo broke the quiet,

"So tell us of the Lady Atùvinel. Why do so many Dûnedain ride with her?" Bergil answered easily, 

"Because she is the Lady of the Dûnedain, and the sword she bears is the blade of Andar, King Aragorn's great forefather. It is well named Sithelon, -'blade of the wood' in the elf tongue for in the wood it was made and in the eves of the Golden wood she received it.

"The Lady has ridden ever since she could sit upright and is skilled in arms. The Lady of the Shield-arm, Éowyn taught her how to wield a sword and I how to shoot." 

A pleasant time passed in this way, Bergil telling the travellers tales of Atùvinel and her brother Eldarion's past.

"She is kind and brave, and although she does not kill readily, she is a warrior I would have at my side in many a battle." 

Before another word could be said, a dreadful shriek rent the air. Men swiftly rose to their feet and drew their swords as a creature fell into the firelight. A strange combination of goblin and Southron it seemed to be, dark brown in colour with red eyes and a matted, forked beard. It fell to the ground, a slender arrow imbedded in its back. A clear horn call rang as Mandmar burst into the circle on his horse alone. He wheeled his mount around and raised his sword again to charge.

I know I'm mean to leave you on a cliffhanger like that, but hey, if it keeps you coming back… Please read and review…


	5. Chapter Four The Red Eye

Chapter Four; The red eye.

_(previously in 'The Battle of the Four Kindreds'…)_

A creature fell into the firelight. A strange combination of goblin and Southron it seemed to be, dark brown in colour with red eyes and a matted, forked beard. It fell to the ground, a slender arrow imbedded in its back. A clear horn call rang as Mandmar burst into the circle on his horse alone. He wheeled his mount around and raised his sword again to charge…

However, he had no need, for Nafalon erupted from the darkness and as soon as he was within the circle of firelight he turned and neighed defiantly. Another arrow was nocked and loosed from Atùvinel's bow before the horse had stilled.

"Urûka! Urûkans!" She called. The men moved quickly to form a defensive circle, faces and swords outwards. Atùvinel had her bow taunt and ready to fire as she leapt from Nafalon's saddle and she ran to stand before Frodo and Gandalf, who had both drawn their swords. Gandalf had Glamdring ready in his fist, glowing ice blue, Frodo held a borrowed sword from the armoury of Gondor by his side. Bergil was at her side as they scanned the darkness,

"What are they?" Frodo asked

"Urûkans." Atùvinel answered shortly. "Another foul breed of ork that Saruman has made. These he left for a later stage of his plan, they emerged some twelve years ago. His legacy, I imagine, and they spawn like toads." As she spoke a harsh guttural voice spoke from the shadows

"We are the Urûka! Give us the man princess!" Bows were loosed at a single sign from Bergil. Only Atùvinel held her arrow. She bent slightly to the fire, her cloak hood shielding her face from view. Slowly the arrow tip began to catch alight.

"Who speaks?" Her voice rang true and clear through the clearing. A hulking shape stepped forward to the summons. He was man sized and horrifically disfigured. He wore a breastplate and carried a sword and a crude shield.

"Lankûa speaks. Chief of the Urûka!" he leered at the princess even as she drew the burning arrow from the fire, drew the bowstring back to her ear and loosed the arrow in one smooth movement. The ork fell to the ground with the still burning brand imbedded in his throat. Then the rest of the ork army leapt from the cover of the trees and Atùvinel drew her bow again and shot as many arrows as she could before it became too close for shooting and became sword and dagger work. Atùvinel drew Sithelon from the sheath and brought it swiftly around to clash with an ork axe blade. A back slash, then an ork fell. Frodo and Gandalf stood in a circle of flashing silver, Atùvinel, Bergil and Mandmar and one other man guarded the two.

The orks fell swiftly, but not quietly. The charge became a rout as the orks fled. Much to the company's surprise the sound of shrieks and clashing metal rang out from the woods where the orks had fled. As the last sounds failed and died away Bergil walked in the direction of the sounds, 

"Who walks in the realm of the King, the fair kingdom of Ithilien?" he challenged.

"It is I." A clear voice answered. That of a man, older than Bergil and that all travellers knew or recalled. All the men lowered their swords as Faramir; Prince of the White tower of Ithilien strode towards them.

"Bergil!" He exclaimed. "Why are you here? You rode with the Lady Atùvinel. Where is she?"

"I am here." Atùvinel entered the clearing. In her hands were an ork blade and a black shield. Disgusted she threw them before the fire "These aren't the white hand they usually bear. They have found themselves a new master it seems. His mark is that of a crossed red eye. I don't know this symbol but my guess is that it belongs to Agaron." 

"It does." Faramir answered, "Ride with us now Atùvinel. Did you find those you sought? For Aragorn is very worried about you."

"I did. Merry and Pippin should have reached Minas Tirith by now."

"They have indeed." Faramir interrupted, "They arrived two days ago now. Their news eased the burden on your father's heart."

"We shall ride hard and fast tomorrow to reach the citadel by mid morning. Lord Frodo and Gandalf ride with us now." Faramir exclaimed in delight

"Frodo! Mithrandir!" He strode to the hobbit and wizard and knelt briefly at their feet. As she rose he shook their hands vigorously. For Gandalf, his Mithrandir, had taught him and his brother Boromir, in their youth and he had aided Frodo and his companion Sam on their quest. "It is very good to see you again. Especially you ring bearer, but I fear you have returned to ill times."

"It is good to see you again too Faramir. And nether the less it is good to be back in Middle Earth and among old friends."

Frodo spent the last stage of their journey to Ithilien's white tower in a daze, although he had only travelled this road once before, blindfolded it seemed familiar. They came to the home of Faramir and Éowyn soon. There they were greeted by warmth and food. Atùvinel seemed very familiar with Faramir and Éowyn, but as Bergil had explained she had spent a lot of time here with her brother when she was young, learning, alongside her father, how to hunt, shoot and fight with sword and shield. 

The night seemed to pass as soon as Frodo's head hit the pillow. He was roused in the next morning by a man gently shaking his shoulder,

"Master, Little master." He woke quickly and ate the food placed in front of him by a servant of Faramir. "The White Lady waits for you outside." He walked slowly through the corridors of the palace until he came to a terrace overlooking the wood.

"You called for me, Lady of Rohan."

"Only to speak with you. For I am sure there is much you would know."

"Indeed there is Lady. For it seems that many things have changed since the last Age."

"Indeed they have. King Elessar has expanded his lands greatly and rules over them well. Fangorn's forests have stretched, they now fill the valleys between here and Rivendell and local tales tell that they protect the lands from Wargs and Goblins."

"Tell me about the Princess' brother, for Bergil told us a little about Atùvinel on the road."

"Eldarion is her twin in looks. Both favour their mother in hair, although Eldarion has his father's eyes and Atùvinel is as slim as the Elf Queen. Eldarion fights like a warrior of Rohan and hunts well, but Atùvinel bests him in archery. 

"They are very similar and love each other dearly; the separation between them these past months has been very hard. Eldarion at home has had no way of knowing how his sister is. At least she knows he is safe at home. Aragorn and Arwen have had no such reassurance, except by the letters she sends. A messenger left the instant you arrived last night, he will have borne the glad news to Minas Tirith. You will find great joy and celebration when you arrive. You will also see and meet Eldarion later, for he will be with the King."

She glanced over the balcony, while they had been talking the company had gathered on the path below. However Gandalf and Atùvinel were not in that number. They could see Faramir approaching with the two, talking earnestly. Each member of the company had been given a new outfit, for the ones they had worn riding had been torn and stained badly. Atùvinel had proved clever with her needle the previous night, when clothes needed to be mended after the fight with the Orks and men needed to be bandaged. Two men had been stabbed, one in the leg, the other in the side, neither wound would scar or last long, but they had needed to be tended swiftly, before infection set in. The hem of Atùvinel's dress had been used for extra padding, after the bandages had been used. 

She now wore a white dress; similar to those Galadriel and Arwen wore in Lórien and Rivendell. Her hair was drawn back from her face with jewelled clips resembling butterflies. She wore around her neck a delicate chain, on which hung a green jewel. Gandalf was robed again in white, as he had since his fall in Moria with the Balrog. It seemed they were his clothes, but washed and repaired. Frodo himself wore the usual clothes of the Shire, left here, he suspected by Merry or Pippin, for they were a little too large for him. He also wore his gold mallorn tree leaf brooch from Galadriel, and looking closer he saw that Gandalf too wore his. 

Atùvinel was talking seriously with Faramir, but she could not help herself breaking out into smiles whenever Minas Tirith or Gondor was mentioned. As Éowyn stood to greet them Atùvinel hugged first her, then Faramir then, with a smile to Frodo she took up her sword and bow from the floor and went back down the stairs. Frodo and Gandalf bade farewell to Faramir and Éowyn then they to mounted their horses. Atùvinel was at the head of the column, after greeting Bergil and assembling in order she blew a single note on her horn and the column began to leave.

As Frodo looked behind him, he saw Faramir cry to them 

"Good speed! And a merry homecoming to you Atùvinel!" She smiled and lifted her voice to call so all the riders could hear her.

_"To Minas Tirith!"_

****

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	6. Chapter Five Homecoming

**Chapter Five; Homecoming.**

The last ride to the city of Minas Tirith was joyous, but for Frodo it was also tainted with memories. He was eager to see his kinsmen and friends but his old wound had begun to ache as soon as he set foot on the soil of Middle Earth. His time in Valinor had dulled the pain to a mere ache and many conferences with Gandalf and Elrond had reassured him that he could learn to put his pain behind him. 

He glanced at the head of the column; Atùvinel was smiling at Mandmar and she almost shone with anticipation. 

As the White city rose in the distance she stood in her stirrups to take a closer look at her home. Then she gave a single ringing note on her horn and Nafalon leaped forward. Bergil laughed and gave the command to gallop as the company swept through the last green spaces of Gondor before the walls of the city of Minas Tirith.

They left the company at the stables in the lower circle of the city before riding to the fountains of the Kings. Banners and pennants hung from windows and across the street to celebrate the Princess' return.

"Pelenth!" Atùvinel called to a passing servant, "Where is my father?" The woman turned with a smile on her face,

"On the Pelennor Fields my Lady." Before she could rise from her curtsey Atùvinel had wheeled Nafalon and was galloping down through the streets of the citadel, through the seven gates and on to the Pelennor, where armour glinted in the sun. As she passed through the last of the gates she paused and scanned the men gathered there. 

Then, as she caught sight of them Atùvinel and Nafalon sped onto the field. Men were training with swords and spears as she rode past, they all laughed and some cheered her on, recognising their princess immediately. Frodo and Gandalf followed at a far slower pace, not wanting to intrude on the imminent reunion. Frodo heard one soldier, taking a break, leaning on his sword hilt tell his less knowledgeable partner.

"That's Lady Narya. So she's home at last." As he caught sight of Frodo watching him he bowed slightly at the waist. 

Atùvinel was now drawing close to the last company. Her companions then saw where she was headed. A lone tent stood on the field. As she soared over the water barrels blocking the entrance, general shield banging and welcoming cries of 

"Lady Narya!" could be heard. Before Nafalon had landed a man, dark haired and tall, exited the tent, a youth of about fourteen years, also dark, followed him, looking around to see what the commotion was all about. Atùvinel gave a cry of great joy and flung herself from Nafalon's back

"Father! Eldarion!" Aragorn caught her easily and she clung to him, and he to her as he spun her in delight. When Aragorn released her he knelt before her on one knee, one hand by the side of her face and said softly,

"Daughter, it is good to have you safe home. Welcome back." She hugged him again, and then she turned to her impatiently waiting brother and the two embraced hard. Eldarion was slightly taller than Atùvinel with blue eyes instead of mossy green. He clutched his sister tightly, his knuckles turning white with the force. When the two parted tears of happiness glittered in both pairs of eyes. As Atùvinel drew away she saw Gandalf and Frodo waiting patiently a while away, smiling at the reunion, for although it was strange to them to see Aragorn as a father and King, when both had known him to begin with as 'Strider' a ranger of the north, they were glad for his obvious happiness. Aragorn too spotted them at that moment and before Atùvinel could announce them he ran to meet his old friends and embraced them heartily.

"Frodo! Gandalf! It is wonderful to see you again."

"It is wonderful to have returned. You have a brave daughter Aragorn." He smiled proudly, 

"I do indeed." He beckoned the twins forward from where they had been earnestly talking, "This is her brother Eldarion."

 Eldarion bowed low, awe in his eyes, as there had been when Atùvinel had first greeted them.

"My Lords." 

The small group walked up to the city slowly together, when Frodo mentioned the other hobbits, Atùvinel and Eldarion, hands linked, offered to show him to their rooms.

"For," said Eldarion, "They are sure to be there, enjoying second breakfasts." Atùvinel joined him in laughter even as they led Frodo up the winding streets. It seemed the hobbit's appetites were standard joke at the court. 

The twins led the way through the main street of the city, the palace towering above. As they walked many greeted them, elves, dwarves and men, and they replied to all willingly and courteously. 

The hobbits' rooms were on an upper floor, Eldarion said as he led the way at a jog up a spiralling staircase, cut small so a grown man could walk three steps at a time, but hobbits could climb easily. Atùvinel released Eldarion's hand so she could lift her skirts as she ran. Frodo followed them, running as easily as a young hobbit, anxious to see his friends. 


	7. Chapter Six, Riddles

**Chapter six, Riddles.**

"After bearers have sailed and trees have walked.

When Elves sing in golden wood.

And men ride in fields free;

Out of man and elf two shall come.

Fire maiden and water man.

Then shadows of dark shall gather 

And companies of nine unite.

Battles shall be fought on rock and plain. 

Sacrifices made and battles won.

And then the white fire shall be renewed."

The King of Gondor and the Northern lands leant on the battlements of his castle as the sun fell from its peak.

"That is the prophecy that has been troubling my days of late." He said. "It surfaced five years ago and I set it by, until I heard of Agaron's rise in the East." 

Gandalf leant on his staff as he too looked out over the lands.

"'Fire maiden and water man'" He quoted. "Atùvinel and Eldarion?"

"I fear so." Aragorn sighed. "You may have heard some of the men call her 'Narya'. 'Fire'." He spoke grimly.

"I have." Gandalf allowed. "But perhaps because of her nature? She seems rather… fiery." 

"She is." Her father laughed. "She does not take orders easily. It was hard to send her away, but only she I could spare to cross to the Havens. Eldarion, my heir, must stay here in Minas Tirith and learn warfare. But tell me Gandalf; what of Elrond? Arwen was grieved when Faramir did not say he was among your company."

"He remained in Valinor. But he sent a letter to Arwen through Atùvinel and he spoke long with her."

"That is good. Arwen shall hear of it soon," He turned to face the wizard. "How are you my friend?"

"Well rested and ready to fight again." He drew his elven blade from its sheath. "Glamdring has been lazy of late. Tell me Aragorn. What are these 'Urûkans'? They ambushed us on the road and none of them lived to run to Agaron. They wanted Atùvinel."

"They have worried at the borders of my lands for some time." Aragorn pointed to the east, to Osgiliath. "After we rebuilt the river fort none have crossed the river there. They must cross the Anduin upstream. They take great risks. Why should they seek Atùvinel?" He cursed under his breath, "Agaron must have heard the prophecy too. And now he wants to kill my son and daughter."

"None even scratched her in the skirmish. She fights well, and shoots better. You have trained her well."

"Thank you. But her master in archery comes now." Gandalf and Aragorn looked out into the city. A tall, slim figure, clad in green, bow and quiver on his back, knives belted at his waist, made his way up to the palace. His companion walked to his right. He was a short, stocky figure with braided hair, wearing chain mail and carrying an axe.

"Legolas and Gimli." Gandalf said with satisfaction.

"Yes. But we must prepare for the feast. You must be introduced, along with Frodo and the other members of the Fellowship once more. Atùvinel must also be presented; she is currently with the minstrels, telling her story. She hates these occasions, as does her brother, although he hides it better. She hates to dance, and she must, along with Arwen and myself, open the dances with the Prince of Rohan."


	8. Chapter Seven, News of Peril

****

Chapter Seven; News of peril.

I know I haven't updated in ages, but here is the next installment of Atùvinel's adventures.

Many sat in the grand hall of Minas Tirith, city of the Kings that evening. Representatives of every race were there, the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf was the most celebrated of the elves. Along with his friend, Gimli, Lord of Aglarond, the glittering caves of Helm's deep, he sat at the high table. Three hobbits sat there, dressed richly, one in the exalted livery of the King's council, one in the dress of Rohan and the other in simple hobbit clothes. The latter two also wore the brooch of office as advisors to the King. The King himself sat in a mighty chair at the table, with a simple circlet of gold upon his brow. His Queen, Arwen of Rivendell sat on his right, she was clothed all in white and gold. Great was her beauty and she smiled upon all that sat at the lower tables. Eldarion sat next to his mother, the Prince of Gondor, wore the same deep blue as his father, but carried no sword at his side. Four seats were empty at the high table, although all other tables were full to overflowing. Hobbits sat with Dwarves and Elves easily in this hall, as they could nowhere else. Music was playing gaily in the background until a minstrel stepped before them all and spoke clearly, so everyone could hear him.

"Fair company, let me tell you of our Lady Nenya and the voyage to the last of the nine. But first allow me to announce Princess Atùvinel of the Reunited Kingdom and Prince Elfwine of Rohan." 

A roar of general approval rang out through the room as the two entered from the opposite end of the hall. The soldiers in the hall all slammed their palms down onto the table tops. Atùvinel blushed as she began to walk down the hall. Elfwine was a tall handsome young man, who was as fair as Atùvinel was dark haired. He was smiling at the Princess and laughing slightly at her red cheeks as they reached the stairs to the dais. He pulled out Atùvinel's chair and waited for her to sit before he sat down himself. Slowly the applause lessened as the herald announced 

"Frodo Baggins of the Shire, Ringbearer. Mithrandir of the Istari." Frodo and Gandalf entered the hall and, with greetings from those they knew, ascended the stairs and sat between Sam and Gimli. Soon all the plates were cleared and the minstrel had finished his song. Eldarion stood alongside his sister and the musicians began playing again. Eldarion escorted his sister to the waiting Prince of Rohan. The two bowed to Aragorn and Arwen before, at the minstrel's signal beginning to dance. The steps of the dance were smooth and flowing, the two obviously knew them well, even though Atùvinel was obviously reluctant to dance before everyone in the hall. She escaped as soon as she could. She stood on the terrace outside of the hall, a solitary figure, clothed in silver and green, clothes blowing behind her in the wind. The flowing cloth gave her the deceptive sense of being fragile. Atùvinel turned and looked out to the west, then to the east. Her face looked hard and cold in the moonlight. There Aragorn found her.

"Why do you still look to the east daughter?"

"It is to the east that the Urûkan trail led. There were other tracks on that path that I did not know."

"The east is where our peril lies." Aragorn sat beside her on the bench. "But you must not dwell on the thought of peril. Come back inside and enjoy your homecoming."

"I will. But I am worried, there is an ill wind coming from there."

"An Ill wind has blown from there for many a year. We will stop it."

"I know." As the two turned to walk inside a horseman came up the streets below them. His mount was breathing hard and frothing at the mouth. The man himself ran to the stairs and mounted them as fast as he was able. A beam of light fell upon his face as he climbed, and Aragorn called to him

"Orone! What news of the east?"

"My lord. A host is issuing from the gates of Agaron, it is headed this way. The men of Rohan are mustering as I brought the news to them in the early morning."

"How many?" Atùvinel asked. The man turned to face her, previously having been unaware of her presence. 

"Your Highness. There are, as best as I can guess, three thousand. I rode for two days, only stopping to exchange horses to get here before it. They must be crossing the barren lands even as we speak."

"We must ride to meet them." Aragorn declared. "Orone, you have done well, rest now." Orone bowed low and hurried from the balcony. Atùvinel too turned to enter the hall again.

"Atùvinel." She turned back to see her father looking solemn. "I cannot allow you to come with us on this battle."

"Why not?"

"Gondor cannot afford to loose both it's heirs. I will need you to stay here with Arwen and guard our people. You know what to do to defend them if necessary." Her face was dark with suppressed fury.

"Others know that too. You cannot leave me here."

"I am afraid I must. Atùvinel, you only just arrived back from the Havens, I don't want to send you off on another dangerous errand if you don't have to."

"Eldarion will go with you." She voice was bleak and distant.

"Yes. He must." Atùvinel turned abruptly and fled to her rooms. There Frodo found her.

"Why are you so upset Lady?"

"I don't want to stay here, Imprisoned in a gilded cage."

"Your father doesn't want to imprison you, he wishes to keep you safe."

"It comes down to the same thing in the end." Atùvinel sat by the window, looking out as men scurried around in the lower city. "I should be there with my brother. Not sitting here like a doll, pretty but useless."

"You are not useless Princess." Frodo moved to sit on a low stool. "I am not going with them either, nor is Sam. The host rides in the morning. Your father will be grieved if you are not there to bid him farewell." 

"Frodo..." He cut her off gently, 

"I am not here to tell you what to do. Your choices must be your own. But I would not risk trying to ride with the host tomorrow, each man shall be checked." At that he left, leaving Atùvinel deep in thought.

****

I know I've been nasty, leaving it for son long, but I have the next chapter planned, so you will be getting that soon!

HuntressDiana


	9. Chapter Eight, The Silver Host

**Chapter Eight; The Silver host.**

When the host was ready to leave, Aragorn and his son still hesitated, Atùvinel had remained in her chambers for the rest of the night, not answering any of their calls. It was now mid morning and they must ride to meet with the riders of Rohan or the forces of Agaron would be upon them. Aragorn dismounted to bid a fond farewell to his Queen, while Eldarion sat on his horse, too upright and stiff for anyone not to notice his discomfort. He clutched the reins tightly, this was his first experience of war and he was not looking forward to it without his twin by his side. 

As the King swung himself up into the saddle, a murmur ran through the troops. They all knew their Princess' feelings about being left behind. And they separated, like the sea, Atùvinel walked down the path left between them. Eldarion quickly dismounted and the two of them embraced tightly. 

"I do not begrudge you the chance." She spoke softly and for his ears only. "Come back swiftly brother."

"I will." He kissed her cheek.

"I'm sorry father." She bowed her head. "I will stay here and guard our people and our city."

He laid his hand on the top of her head, then raised her.

"I know you will do your duty Atùvinel, as we must do ours."

Her voice was still clear, ringing like a bell for all the ears of the host, 

"Ride well Father, to a glad homecoming."

"We will do so Daughter, but now we ride!" The men raised their spears in the air, 

"Gondor! And the white tree!" With a noise like thunder, the men urged their horses into a trot, then a canter until they were finally galloping. Aragorn, Eldarion and Gandalf were at the head, under the banner of the Kings.

Atùvinel stood, her dress whipping around her in the wind, as the men rode around her, she did not flinch at how close some of the horses came to her, but patted their withers. One stopped above her and she looked up to see Legolas and Gimli.

"Namárië Princess Narya. Do not mourn our leaving, do not wait for us to return for we will be back. Do what your country expects of you." the Mirkwood elf counselled her in a soothing voice.

"Too long have I done what my country expects of me." She exploded at last. "I want to do what I expect of me, and to be free from duty." She turned on her heel, ignoring her mother's outstretched arm and ran to the stables. 

"Narya indeed Master Elf." The gravely voice of Gimli came from behind Legolas. "But we must take our leave fair Queen."

Arwen bowed her head slightly.

"I will look for my daughter, while you must ride hard now to rejoin the host."

"Indeed we must, Lady Arwen, but we are up for the challenge." His horse, golden in the sunlight, sprang up from stillness and galloped along the track to battle.

Arwen walked slowly to the stables, giving her daughter time to compose herself. Despite her fierce words Atùvinel would never surrender her duty, she was too loyal and understood too well what that duty meant to others. With a smile filled with memories, the Elf queen passed under the stone archway, Atùvinel was much like she herself had been as a child.

She found her hugging Nafalon's neck, and the horse was whickering softly, rubbing his head against her hair. Nafalon too longed to be out in the field, he was a war horse and wanted to run beside his brother Atalna, who Eldarion rode.

"I want to be out there." Atùvinel said, when she saw her mother, "Not sitting uselessly here."

"I know. But your father must think of Gondor's future if both he and Eldarion would die. You would be ruler of the West."

"So why couldn't Eldarion stay behind and I ride to battle?"

"Men would not follow a King who did not lead his troops in battle."

"Will they follow a Queen who doesn't fight?"

"They may." Arwen allowed. "Lady Éowyn has changed much, but she can be discounted as one lady who can fight among millions. Yours is a hard path my daughter, but only you can tread it."

"Where is Prince Elfwine? I did not see him among the company." Atùvinel diverted the conversation from her, 

"He rode last night to Rohan, where he will join his father in battle as well."

"How much easier it would have been if I was a boy." She said wistfully.

"Easier for you." Arwen said, "But what about the girls in the city? And those who watch you from afar in the outlands? You carry all their hopes. You, who can show men that women can not only be equal to men, but who can surpass many in arms."

Atùvinel sighed, 

"Too much is laid upon me. What if I fail?"

"Then you fail. But do not think of that, aim for the Heavens and you may reach them. You can do much that is barred for the rest of the people. You have crossed to the Havens and returned, no one has done that before, you are Gondor's Lady Narya, and you must strive to open the door for others to come after you."

Atùvinel laughed slightly, 

"So you have heard."

"About your title?" Arwen asked "Yes, and so I have something for you, from the Prince of Rohan." She pulled from her belt pouch a chain. Hanging on the end of that chain was a red crystal, lapped with streaks of gold. Atùvinel took the jewel in awe, 

"He gave this for me?"

"Yes," the Queen fastened it around her child's neck, "And he bid me tell you, 'Happy Homecoming'." Atùvinel blushed as she examined the necklace and Arwen looked on with a knowing smile on her face, which only deepened the colour in her daughter's cheeks.


	10. Chapter Nine, The battle of the Wastelan...

**Chapter Nine; Battle of the Wastelands.**

****

 The commanders met in the centre of the battleground. One day had already passed, and they were now in the brief respite of midday. The Urukans could fight in the sunlight, but it was uncomfortable for them, and so they rarely did so at high noon. 

Éomer and Aragorn, along with the Prince of Dol Amroth talked together, assessing their losses. The enemy was strong, but not so strong that they could not be beaten. Éomer and Aragorn had both brought down a chieftain of the orcs, while Gimli and Legolas were equal in their total of deaths, two score each. 

The two Princes sat outside, by a fire where they stayed in companionable silence until the elf and dwarf joined them.

"Why so quiet Princes?" Gimli asked

"Hush Gimli, perhaps they are thinking."

Eldarion sighed, "Indeed I am."

"Of what?" Legolas queried, then corrected himself "Or maybe I should say 'of whom'?"

"My sister, Atùvinel. She wanted to come with us. Father wouldn't allow it."

"She will come to see his point in time." Gimli said simply.

"But what if she doesn't? She loves Minas Tirith, but she loves the wild more." Eldarion leant forward and played with a stick, thrusting it deep into the embers and stirring them. "She loathes being caged and that is what she sees this as."

"She has had her turn of danger, being sent over the Sundering Sea to find Gandalf and Frodo."

"That is true, but she was afraid about that. Atùvinel is never afraid."

"Or perhaps she never seems to be afraid." Elfwine said softly.

"Perhaps." Eldarion acknowledged, "But she came to me the night before she left for the Shire. She was terrified, even though she tried to hide it from me, you know what they say at the harbours, once you cross the sea, you are not meant to come back."

"But Atùvinel did. She defeats all prophecies like that, because they say she cannot do what she wants to." 

All four laughed at Elfwine's comment.

"That is true. How do you know my sister so well all of a sudden Prince of Rohan?"

"We talked at the banquet, and she sent me letters to while she was away."

"She did? I had no knowledge of that."

"Perhaps she did not want you to Master Eldarion." Gimli noted wryly. "But what I want to know is what you had in your pocket all through the banquet and the dancing, and you gave to Lady Arwen Evenstar after the Princess left the ball and before you rode off home." 

Elfwine blushed slightly, 

"A homecoming gift of a sort." He would say no more and there was no more time to press him, as the alarm calls to battle rang out across the valley, but before the two Princes left to fight, Eldarion grabbed his friend's arm.

"We will speak of this again later." 

"Not if I can help it!" Elfwine grinned. "As your sister if you must know, and that is all you are getting from me."

"Atùvinel? Tell me? Are you mad? You know that when she wants something secret she will not tell anyone or anything not under torture."

The Prince of Rohan, pulled on his helmet and ran to join his father in the left flank, saluting the other young man with his sword as he ran.

"Eldarion! Come." He ran to join Aragorn, "I know you are worried about Atùvinel but now, we must fight so we can ride back to our home and find out what the Prince of Rohan gave her."

Eldarion stared up at his father.

"You knew?"

"I know something, Arwen would not tell me more than it was from Elfwine to Atùvinel."

The two ran to their horses, and then to battle.

That might help clear up who Elfwine is to a few of you who asked me previously. Did you like it? Let me know by reviewing…


	11. Chapter Ten, Hands of a healer

**Chapter Ten; The hands of a healer.**

****

Atùvinel sat in a high tower in the palace. Her father and brother had been at war for five days now and she was restless. Messengers had come from the battlefield, bearing letters and news as well as those most grievously wounded. She had offered to help out in the houses of healing, down in the lower city, but so far she had not been called upon to aid them. There was little she could do during the days except ride Nafalon and wander around the palace and Minas Tirith. She was going crazy with anxiety and boredom.

A knock sounded at the door. She slipped off her seat at the window and walked towards it, calling as she did so.

"Come in!" 

It was Sam.

"Atùvinel! They are calling for you in the houses of healing. You are needed there."

Immediately she swept out the door. If they had summoned her it meant that someone gravely wounded had arrived. As the Princess she was closest to the King in lineage and therefore she too had the hands of a healer and could do things other healers could not. 

She ran down the stairs, hitching her skirt up as she did so, leaving Sam to follow behind. 

When she arrived at the houses of healing Pelenth greeted her. 

"My Lady, the Prince of Rohan is within."

"Elfwine?" She pushed past her old nurse and hurried into the room she knew he would be in. They had one room that was on the very east of the houses, where only those near death slept. The master healer was with him, talking softly to a steward bearing the crest of Rohan. As they caught sight of her both bowed, impatiently she greeted them, 

"What happened?" She questioned the steward.

The healer interrupted, something few dared to do before her,

"There is no time Princess Atùvinel. Unless we hurry he will die."

"Of course." Frantically she bathed her hands, then bent over the Prince. His eyes were half closed, showing his pupils were wide and unfocussed. Gently she closed his eyes fully and swept his matted blond hair from his forehead. His tunic and shirt had already been removed and carefully she peeled the bandage he wore across his chest away. The wound was ugly, black in places with bits of cloth and dirt deep inside.

"Master, do we have any Athelas?"

"Indeed we do your highness." He beckoned to a younger man and gave directions to him. Atùvinel was absorbed in her work, carefully picking through the wound. He had been run through by and orc skewer by the looks of it. Delicately she removed pieces of metal and splinters, trying to avoid causing any more bleeding. With a curse muttered low so the older man could not hear her she held a pad tightly onto any parts that did begin seeping blood once more. 

She smelled the athelas as it came into the room. Ever since her father had become King, the virtues of this plant were more widely known. There was always a supply of it in these houses, both fresh and dried, and in the herb garden more grew. The young man placed a bowl of hot water beside her on the flagstones and placed the wrapped leaves beside it. 

She looked up to thank him and saw the worried look in his eyes.

"Stay awhile." She motioned to the Prince of Rohan's other side. "I will need to turn him over in a little while." 

She picked up the first leaf from its wrappings and crushed it in her hands, staining her palms slightly, then ripped it into small pieces and cast them upon the surface of the water. Drawing her belt knife she stirred the mixture, then soaked a cloth in the fragranced water and began dabbing at the wound. The water staunched the bleeding somewhat and when Atùvinel was satisfied that the wound was clean, she bandaged it carefully then stood.

"We need to turn him over." 

The young man who had brought the Athelas nodded at her command, and while she cradled his head, he was rolled over so he lay flat on his stomach.

She resumed cleaning the wound. This side was far smaller but had more splinters. She worked carefully making sure that she removed every particle she could. 

When she finally sat back onto her heels, it was night and lanterns had been lit so she could still work. Her dress was splattered with blood and other bodily fluids and she was tired. But still she persevered, wrapping the wound tightly to stop any more bleeding, and on every other turn around his body she placed a leaf of Athelas above the wound. When she was finally done she stood, swaying slightly. The men who had watched her work steadied her. Gratefully she accepted the mug of water Pelenth handed her and drank deeply.

"You need to rest now Atùvinel," the older woman said.

The Princess nodded in acknowledgement. She was no use to anyone if she was exhausted, she would be more likely to harm those she was meant to be healing. Although she could work throughout the night, and had done so before, she would rather not, if there was no need, and there wasn't now.

"I don't want to go back up to the palace tonight, or," She glanced out at the sky, estimating the time by the position of the moon and stars in an eye blink, "this morning. I am too tired and I want to be here if Elfwine should need me."

"There will be a room made up for you then, my lady." The herb master had come back into the room.  Atùvinel stood from her seated position on the floor, 

"In that case, while that is being done, I will look around and see if I can do anything for the others who lie within these houses." The master bowed and left the room, followed by the other men and Pelenth. Atùvinel bent low over the Prince of Rohan, checking his breathing was deep and even, then kissed his forehead lightly, a red pendant falling from the front of her dress, to hang, swaying slightly from side to side, between the two.

Then, casting a regretful look back at him, she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.


	12. Chapter Eleven, Possession

**Chapter Eleven; Possession.**

Atùvinel looked around the houses, talking to the few who were awake and lucid enough to know who she was. One man caught her dress as she walked almost silently past.

"Lady Narya!" His voice was hoarse and quiet. She kneeled down beside his bed so she could hear him better, "Narya."

"That is me. I am known here in the city as 'Narya'." She spoke gently, so as not to disturb the others' recovery sleep.

"I am known as Mirdain and I fought beside your brother and father in the battle on the plain."

"You served them valiantly, of that I am sure." She could not disguise her bitter tone.

"I would die for them." His voice was becoming thicker, and he coughed slightly. Blood began to pool at the corner of his mouth.

"Pelenth!" Atùvinel called, no longer worried about silence. "Get me a cloth and some water!" As the woman did as she was bidden, the girl blotted the corner of his mouth with one of the cloths lying nearby. 

"I have a message for you, Lady Narya." His voice became more guttural. "A message from the black hearted one."

"Agaron?"

"Yes. He bade me tell you that Minas Tirith shall fall and your blood shall join your brother's at the seven gates as he rides into his new domain."

"He was there, at the battle?" Atùvinel leant over him, ignoring the shocked gasp of her old nurse at the man's words.

"Yes he was there. And he fought through me." For a second his eyes cleared, the pupils returning to their ordinary size. "Lady Narya!" He gasped, his voice had suddenly become mellower and softer. "I did that to the Prince. Help me. He has taken me over, I do not know how but I cannot live like this. Stop me now. Stop me." 

Atùvinel's eyes glittered, it was clear what he had said was true, she now recognised the man as she wiped blood and dirt from his forehead, flaking dried blood away from a wound on his scalp. 

"I will Mirdain. I will." She stood, and moved past him, in a stern voice ordering everyone who could to leave, then told the others to close their eyes and stop up their ears. His fingers caught at her dress, and he begged her once more. With a muffled sob she yanked it from his hand. 

She strode out of the room to the entrance where she collected her dagger from the place she had left it when entering the houses of healing. She drew it from its sheath and checked it was sharp. 

With a sharp nod to those who stood by the door, she re entered the room. His eyes were red with tears, but she saw that Mirdain was not himself once more. His face was flushed but as she watched from the doorway she saw it pale, then turn red again. As he thrashed on the bed, she moved in closer. He saw her and screamed out,

"You will die, Princess of the cursed lands! You will die in agony and alone!" In two quick strides she rapped him smartly on the head with the hilt of her dagger. When he subsided back onto his pallet, she smoothed his matted hair from his forehead, and whispering a prayer for his soul, she slid the dagger between his ribs. He didn't even cry out, just gasped slightly and then his breath and heartbeat stopped. 

Atùvinel stood, wiping a tear with the back of her hand, and said, without even looking at those grouped in the doorway, said softly, 

"Bury him outside in the gardens. Is the room made up?"

"Aye lady." 

"I'm too tired to heal anymore tonight. Summon me if Elfwine needs help though. Have someone stand guard all night, he has already had one attempt on his life, we do not need any others. Send a messenger to my father with the letter I will write now. Send the fastest rider we have, this is urgent news." 

"It shall be done Princess Atùvinel." 

She allowed herself to be steered into a small room, where she sank onto the bed and wrote hastily, in the elvish script, her sad news. Giving the epistle to the young man who had knocked on her door some five minutes ago, she let Pelenth treat her as if she were a child once more, undressing her and washing her face and arms in a bowl of water. She collapsed into bed, and, reiterating her order to be woken if there was any change in Elfwine, then fell into a deep, thankfully dreamless slumber.


	13. Chapter Twelve, Troubled Minds

Chapter Twelve, Troubled Minds.  
  
Atùvinel rose early, although her sleep had been dreamless, it had been fragmented and light. She now walked along the curtain wall of Minas Tirith. Occasionally she was greeted by the guards but for the most part she was alone with her thoughts. If Agaron could take over the minds of the men her father and brother were commanding, then they were in greater peril than either knew. She had sent another letter to the battlefield, and was expecting a reply to the first later that day. She had omitted the words Mirdain had directed at her alone, and those were the words that repeated themselves in her mind. "You will die, Princess of the cursed lands! You will die in agony and alone!" He wasn't meant to die.  
  
Atùvinel was no fool, she knew the reality of war was that some fathers would become childless and some children would become fatherless. It was a harsh reality where the blood of innocents stained the earth as they fought to save the ones they loved. They went out there searching for glory and honour. There was no glory and little honour in battle. They would die not caring about how many they had slain and forgetting what they fought for. They would die in agony and she would mourn them before covering them up with their own stained blankets.  
  
She had already had to perform that office twice that morning, as two of the wounded men had given up their lives and ties to this world. One had passed away during the night, as Atùvinel slept, but the other had been able to have his friends and family around him as he went to the land of his fathers.  
  
  
  
Shaking her head, she struggled to get the morbid thoughts out of her head, instead, in a vain effort to do something, she came to the training fields. As all of the men able to fight were either at their posts defending the city or in the battle, it was deserted. She took her fury out on a target, using a longbow to punch holes through the wicker framework.  
  
When her arm tired of the exercise, she went to Nafalon.  
  
He whickered softly as he saw his mistress coming towards him, along the length of the stables. Murmuring softly, she began to brush him down, combing through his long, luxurious mane and tail before placing a light saddle on his back. She slipped on a pair of riding gloves, then led her horse from the confinement of the court and down the streets of the  
  
city, deep in thought.  
  
She was not able to go far, but Atùvinel found solace in the gentle movement of Nafalon beneath her. But still she found her mind turning to the things she would rather they stayed far away from. She found a cool stream and allowed Nafalon to drink and take his fill of the refreshing water. She too drank a little, and pulled her boots off, then sat down on a rock near the water and let her feet fall into the current. The stream was fast moving and a popular place for fish it seemed. As he sat there, her horse wandered off slightly to graze, the wood she sat in sprang back to life. It had fallen silent when she had arrived and now, as the animals sensed that she would not pose a threat to them, they reappeared. A kingfisher, brilliant blue and gold swooped from a branch to her right, dipping down into the water and emerging triumphant with a fish in its beak. A small deer came from the trees on the opposite back and drank from the water, keeping an eye always on her. Slowly, so as not to startle it, she withdrew her feet from the water and pulled them up close to her body. She shifted her dress so it wouldn't get wet then stared contemplatively into the water.  
  
Atùvinel came to a few realisations that day, as she sat there, that eased the burden on her heart.  
  
She was not solely responsible for every death that came about in the healing rooms. She had been forced to kill that man, it was a mercy stroke he had begged her to give. That was the kind of decision commanders on the battlefield made, knowing that whatever they did, they were sending good men to their deaths. It scared her that she had been able to weigh up the cost of this one man's life against that of her people and had killed him without a second thought.  
  
  
  
An owl's call startled her. It was night now, the sun had fallen behind the horizon and she should be back in the city limits. Nafalon seemed to know that as well, and as she stood he walked over and offered his back. Atùvinel smiled and patted him on the nose.  
  
"Very well boy, let's go home." 


	14. Chapter Thirteen, Messenger

**Chapter Thirteen, Messenger**

When Atùvinel returned to Minas Tirith, she went to the palace at first to change her clothes and wash. As she sat in front of a mirror, pulling her hair back into a braid, a knock came on the door.

As she called for them to enter, she bound the end of her hair together with a leather thong. Her dress was plain and sensible, in a dark blue that would not show any stains she might pick up as easily. A messenger entered her room, in his hand he held a letter. He was a man of Rohan, clearly distinguished by his flowing golden hair and his tall stature. He looked around her rooms in wonderment.

"From the Battlefield my lady."

"I thank you." She took the letter from him, "Are you needed back tonight?" 

"No, your highness. I am due to return within the week though."

"Were you, yourself, on the battlefield?"

"I was, Lady."

"In that case you must rest here for the night. Come." She stood, sliding her feet into slippers and leading the way out of her room. "I will take you to the kitchens and as you eat I shall read your message and I would wish to talk to you."

"It would be a great honour my lady." He said with feeling.

She led him down from the rooms she inhabited, he was clearly surprised by how she treated him, so cordially and politely, asking him if he wanted something to eat or drink. What startled him still more was that she greeted the servants who walked past and fixed his drink, and her own, herself. He had begun to help, but she had ordered him to sit and allow herself to do it. The cooks were clearly used to that, as they talked to her casually. 

She handed him the plate, which held bread and a hunk of cheese and a slice of cold meat and a tankard of ale and led the way to a small study. She sat down at one end of a small square table, putting her mug of spiced juice down and gesturing for him to sit. 

They talked deep into the night, of many things, such as the war, and his home, until a girl came from the Houses of healing.

Atùvinel stood at once, hearing the man's chair scrape backwards on the flag stones as well.

"What is it?" She asked.

"It's the Prince of Rohan m'am" She sank into an awkward curtsey. "He's woken up!"

"Thank the heavens!" She turned back to the messenger. "Come with me again, I ask you, so you can see how Prince Elfwine is and bear news back to King Éomer and my father on his health."

She set off down the path at a run, her skirts gathered up in one hand and the messenger followed. She entered the houses of healing and at once went to Elfwine's room where she found him struggling to get out of bed. Before he saw her, she heard him order the healers who were trying to hold him down away. They had to obey, he was a prince and with in reason, his word was law until a higher authority overruled him. He pulled the sheets aside and cried out in pain. Stifling another cry he asked.

"Where is Princess Atùvinel? She is in great danger."

She moved forward, 

"I am here. Now lie back."

"No!" He struggled to rise.

"Princess…" One of the men started forwards, as princess of Gondor, and the steward while her father and brother were away, she could overthrow Elfwine's commands.

"Wait." She hurried over to his bedside, and placed a hand on each shoulder. "Elfwine, lie down."

"I will not!" Still he struggled and she tried to hold him down, before realising that she could not hold him down alone. "You two- help me." 

The two manservants came to her side and took one of his arms, gently lowering the prince back down onto the bed. 

"Where is Atùvinel?" He cried, whipping his head from side to side as he tried to break free. "Where is the Princess of Gondor?"

"She's here milord."  One said, jerking his head towards Atùvinel. "Begging your pardon your highness." He added, fearing he had been rude.

"It is fine. Elfwine, I am here." Atùvinel came to sit on the edge of the bed, taking one of his hands. "He is burning with fever! Get some cold water." A healer scurried to do her bidding. She dipped a cloth into the water and bathed the prince's sweating forehead gently, slicking back his sweat dampened hair. "Elfwine, it is I, Atùvinel."

"You lie! You are not she."

"I am." She brushed the manservants away when she saw he was too spent to be able to rise again. She wet the cloth again and cooled his arms. "I am Atùvinel, Princess of Gondor and Minas Tirith."

"Prove it to me." He coughed roughly.

"I am Lady Nenya, and I ride the white horse Nafalon, sired of Shadowfax and Asfalof." She paused, but he did not speak. She carried on wetting his skin as she spoke.

"I learned the bow from Legolas Greenleaf, and the sword from your father's sister, the Lady of the Rohirrim, Éowyn. I bear the blade Sithelon, given to me by my mother's kin of the woodland realm of Lothlorien."

"You have not proved yourself to me, these are things all could know."

"You are stubborn Elfwine." She sighed and continued. "I fell in the lake as a child and almost drowned, until my father rescued me. Eldarion and you got into such trouble for challenging me to swim across the lake when you knew I couldn't swim." She sat back and recalled more memories. "You brought me my first bridle, made for Nafalon when he was a foal." 

Atùvinel didn't stop Elfwine as he tried to sit up, instead she helped him to rest his back against the headboard of the bed. 

"And you gave me this jewel, before you left for war. And my mother said you bade her tell me 'Happy homecoming'."

Shakily, Eldarion reached out a hand and lifted the gem off her chest, where it lay on her chain. 

"It is true, I did give this to Queen Arwen to give to you. Atùvinel? Is it you?"

"It is indeed." She pulled the bedclothes up higher on his chest and pushed him back to relax. It was only when he glanced at her hand in bewilderment that she realised that her hand was still resting on his bare chest. She withdrew it quickly, blushing slightly.

"You were saying that I was in danger?"

"You are in grave danger. There is a small army of Uruk-hai and Urûkans coming for the city. And for you. They have orders to carry you off to Agaron's stronghold in the east."

"How many?"

"One thousand at least. Two thousand at most."

"So many? And we have so few defenders."

"They want to crush Minas Tirith and Gondor, and sow the fields with salt so nothing will grow there again."

"They drew my father and brother off, and the army as well." 

 He nodded. "I am sorry, Atùvinel. But they took the bait and now the trap is being sprung."

"It is." Atùvinel stood. "I am glad you are better Elfwine, do you feel up to getting out of bed."

"You try and stop me!" He said, trying to get out again. Atùvinel sat once more, by his hips and pushed him down again.

"I will for another hour at least. I need to summon the generals that remain here with us, in the city. Most have seen too many winters. But we will do what we can. Master Healer?" The chief healer came to her side immediately. 

"Your highness?"

"Hold Prince Elfwine here." She said firmly, and when the prince began to object she glared at him and continued. "On my orders. He is not to be allowed to get up until the bell tolls, summoning him to the war chamber. Only then can you permit him to dress and send some men to escort him to the chamber. Do what ever you see fit to keep him here, use force if necessary, bolt the door." She walked towards the door and exited, before poking her head back in the room. "And remove his clothes from that chair; let's not make it easy for him to escape." She smirked at Elfwine, who made a face at her before leaving.

"You heard the Lady Nenya." The healer said as he gathered up the Prince's clothes. "And I wouldn't advise disobeying her. She will not be pleased if you arrive in the Chamber of war until after the bell. Where else would you go?" 

"You make a good point." He acknowledged.

"But if you are in need of anything, summon us and we shall give it to you, if it is within our powers and Princess Atùvinel's commands."

"Thank you. I will do so."

But Elfwine simply sat there, turning a small locket over and over in his hands as he thought of what was to come.


	15. Chapter Fourteen, Councils of War

**Chapter fourteen; Councils of war.**

"Frodo!" Atùvinel rapped anxiously on the hobbit's door. When she received no answer, she pushed it open and walked in. The hobbit was sitting out on the balcony, a large red book in his lap. "Master Frodo!" Her voice startled him out of the trance he was writing in.

"Princess Atùvinel!" He stood. "What is the matter?"

"I will explain soon, can you come to the war chamber?"

"Certainly. I will come now."

"Thank you. I must find the others first as well."

"If you need some help, I can find Sam, Merry and Pippin."

"That would help me greatly." She left the room hurriedly, "We meet in the war chamber in an hour!"

He watched her go, wondering what could cause her to be so worried. She was running along the corridor and her dress was creased. He had never seen her so anxious, not even when the host rode off to war, then she had been composed, but now she was clearly frightened. He went to find his kinsmen. 

When they arrived at the war chamber, they were startled to see so few there. Counting themselves there were only eleven present, Atùvinel and Arwen sat at the end of the table, with an empty seat beside them. Two older men were also seated, and in the livery of the King's council. A courier and two scribes completed the number.

Atùvinel looked up as they entered, 

"Good. Merry, Pippin, can you come and study this map? I want your advice on where to wage this fight, near or away from Fangorn forest? Can we count on the Ents giving us shelter should we need it?"

"Treebeard might agree, but the other Ents… I am not sure about." Pippin said. 

"But they will not do anything to us if we do not harm them or their trees until they have decided, and Treebeard may intervene for us."

The Princess sighed. "So we cannot count on security. I was afraid of that." She slid the map over to the other men. "Generals. You know far more about this warfare than I. Where would you propose we should take our stand? I would keep this away from Minas Tirith and the farmland as much as possible."

"We may not be able to save all farmland your highness. We should not risk surety of a victory over the price of crops."

"Indeed not." She agreed. "But I would like to spare as much as possible." 

He nodded and resumed studying the map with his companion. 

"Frodo, Sam. Thank you for joining us. I will now explain what the situation is." 

"Before you begin daughter…" Arwen stood. "I want it to be clear that Atùvinel is in command here, not I. She will be leading this mission as I have little experience in war and it was my lord's orders that if anything like this should arise I should remain here, and my daughter would lead, with help from the generals of course. Prince Elfwine of Rohan will be the second in command." The queen sat, her meaning crystal clear.

Atùvinel flashed her mother a thankful smile, although she was unsure of her ability to lead this mission. But she did not show her anxiety and began to speak again.

"There is an army of Uruk-hai and Urûkans coming for Minas Tirith, at least a thousand strong."  She waited for the shocked whispers to die. "They are coming to capture our city and…"

"The Princess." A new voice broke in. Elfwine was standing in the doorway, leaning heavily on the frame.

"Elfwine!"Atùvinel started towards him, but the healers he had come with helped him into the room and into the seat on her left. 

"Would you allow me to continue your highness?"

"Of course." She sat, and kept him down when he tried to rise. Shaking his head at her, he leant forward.

"This army is coming from Agaron and they are coming, firstly to carry Princess Atùvinel off to the East and secondly to throw Minas Tirith to the ground. What they intend to do to Atùvinel I do not know, but I am sure we can all guess."

He felt Atùvinel shudder at his side and took her hand gently to reassure her. 

"We must prevent this at all costs. There is some devilry at work that may need Atùvinel's blood, and that of her brother, the Prince Eldarion to overthrow all the free lands."

The generals blanched, this heightened the tension in the room considerably. 

"What?" Arwen started, "Atùvinel! I cannot allow you to ride to battle in that case. You will not just be targeted for protecting Minas Tirith, but you will be taken to Mordor and killed there, alone and far from home... I cannot allow that to happen."

"Mother, I will go." Atùvinel faced her mother, her face pale still. "If not then they will come for me here. I will not be the cause of more needless deaths."  
"Lady Nenya, deaths are not needless if they are spent protecting you."

"They will be. I will ride with the host to face these beasts." Her last words were for the queen alone, "It may be a hard path, but I will walk it, for no one else can."

It was late that night when Atùvinel sat alone on the curtain wall, staring out across her home. The wind was brisk and cold as it whipped colour into her cheeks. But she didn't move, not even to shiver and so warm herself up. This was a place she went to get away from everything that surrounded her. As the princess of Minas Tirith, she always had to think of what others would think before she could act or speak, and it wore her down, constantly being on the alert for danger. Especially now, every small sound had her glancing at the source. She was unable to sleep, guilt ridden still for killing Mirdain and worrying if it was her own selfish need to leave the capital and her desire to be doing something worthwhile that made her want to lead the host to battle.

Even though she knew they were willing to die to protect her and their country, but why should they die for her?

"Atùvinel?"

Elfwine had watched Atùvinel throughout the meeting and after it, during the evening meal. She had only toyed with her food, and left with barely a word halfway through the meal. She had been a good friend of his for many years, and as their countries bordered each other and King Éomer and King Elessar were also friends, they had grown up together. Elfwine remembered riding together, and hunting with Atùvinel and Eldarion. But they were grown up now, and they had no time for playing.

He walked up to the Princess, sitting on the wall, her knees pulled tightly up against her chest and looking lost. Her face was cast into shadow as the moon slipped behind a cloud and Elfwine heard a muffled sob. When the moonlight hit her skin again, it sparkled upon her wet cheeks.

Elfwine was shocked, he had never seen her cry before, she had always been strong, determined to keep up with her twin and him, never wishing to demonstrate any weakness in front of them. He touched her shoulder gently, as he pulled himself up onto the wall next to her and sat, staring over the countryside.

"Atùvinel…" She lifted her head and didn't look at him as she smudged the tears away. 

"Elfwine." She returned.

"You don't have to pretend."

"Pretend what?" Her voice was eerily blank.

"Atùvinel, I know you like my own sister, and you don't have to pretend to me." He crouched in front of her. "Don't lie to me, I can see right through it."

She kept her brave face up for another minute, until his frank and worried gaze cracked her shield. She buried her face in her hands,

"I'm afraid, Elfwine. Not for me, although I don't want to die, but for Minas Tirith, and Eldarion, and my father." Sobs shook her body violently. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what I should do. I'm so confused…"

Unsure of what to do, Elfwine pulled her into his embrace. She folded against him easily, after only token resistance. She huddled against him, suddenly more afraid than she had ever been in her life, and more alone. 

Elfwine could understand some of what she was worried about. 

"Atùvinel, you must do what you think is right for Minas Tirith. I will support you in whatever you choose, as will Queen Arwen. The council is there to help you do this. Master Frodo and Sam are here, and Master Merry and Master Pippin should return from the Entwood with Mithrandir soon." He spoke without thinking, for that was the only way he could reassure Atùvinel, She had always worried if she was doing the right thing. Her twin had conviction behind his every deed, but Atùvinel always wanted to help everybody and it hurt her when she failed and someone was hurt because of it. She felt personally responsible for every man and woman under her command.

"This is about Mirdain as well, isn't it?"

She stiffened at the name, and that was answer enough for him. Gently, he ran his fingers through her hair. 

"I heard about that; the healers repeated every word that was spoken to me. Atùvinel, he begged you to kill him. He would have found away to kill himself if he had been in control of his body. If he wasn't then what ever possessed him would have murdered me in my bed, or worse, he would have killed you."

"But why did he have to die? He had done nothing wrong."

"He wanted to die. He'd fought the possession but then he needed you, as his Princess and Mistress to end his suffering. And you did that. It was the right thing to do."

The quiet assurance in his voice comforted Atùvinel somewhat.

"But, why should they die?" 

Elfwine cut her next question off.

"I cannot tell you that. No one alive can." His voice rumbled in his chest as Atùvinel laid her head on his shirt. "You can't worry yourself like this."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Queen Arwen approaching. Atùvinel didn't see her mother, but she sat there, cradled in her friend's arms and cried. 

Elfwine tried to calm her, and when he looked up again, the Elf Queen had gone. He was awed by the trust they put in him. Atùvinel never allowed herself to cry, and yet she trusted him enough to allow the emotional walls she had constructed to fall. And Arwen knew how he felt about her daughter, and she trusted him to take care of her.

He smiled, and gently kissed the top of the Princess' head.

"It will be all right." He whispered softly. "This, I promise you."

**A slow update again, sorry about that, but it is quite long. **

**What did you think of it? No flames please!**

**HuntressDiana.**


	16. Chapter Sixteen, Duty

**Chapter Sixteen; Duty.******

Atùvinel sighed, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear and absentmindedly clipping it back as she pored over maps of the region. Her face was lined with exhaustion, this was her first campaign and, although she had the help of older commanders, the final decision had to be hers, and she found it hard to send men to their deaths.****

But she did the best she knew how, and they had won two crucial battles against the Urûkan army, pushing them back to the base of Emyn Arnen, back to where they had come from, Minas Morgul. But they had lost men as well. A helmet sat on the table beside her, and she wore her sword belted at her waist. She was waiting for a horn to sound, and summon them to battle once again. The Urûks didn't seem to tire, instead they attacked both at night and during the day. They had been caught by surprise by the first attack, and had lost about fifteen men that night. Now Atùvinel had posted the Dûnedain among them in the woods, ready to sound the alarm if another ambush was prepared. Most of the men were asleep though, and deservedly so, they had fought many hard battles in the past week.

"My Princess!" Bergil came into the tent. "You need to rest."

She sighed. "I know. But I can't sleep."

"I will watch for you," he offered, "and I will let you know at once if anything changes."

"I didn't mean that." She sank down onto a chair, "I am weary, but I cannot fall asleep."

"What keeps you awake then?" He asked. He had been her guard ever since she was a girl and he understood her best out of all the men at the camp.

"Worry. Fear." She said softly, cradling her head in her hands. "If Agaron was able to take over one mind, he could do the same to others. I don't know who to trust."

"Trust yourself." He counselled. "And sleep now. There is no more you can do and worrying will not aid anyone."

She rested her hand on his forearm and nodded slightly, heading into her tent. She was the only female in the camp, and had her own tent, next to the commander's area. She was guarded by four faithful soldiers, knowing that it was unlikely that Agaron would be able to control all their minds at once, and so she could sleep safely.

With a wince at the sound of grating metal, Atùvinel pulled off her chain mail and laid it on a low table beside her bed roll. She changed into a fresh shirt and breeches. Even when she was sleeping, Atùvinel had to be prepared for battle, her sword belt was wrapped around her wrist and her other hand touched the dagger beneath her pillow.

She laid down on her bed roll, pulling the cover over her. Almost at once she sighed and kicked it off. She was feeling too worried and too guilty about the deaths of her men to be able to sleep tonight. She walked out of her tent, belting her sword around her waist once more. Quietly, nodding at the men guarding her, she walked among the green tents, seeking something, anything, to give her rest and peace.

Then she crumpled, right at the edge of the camp, just to the side. She is the warrior Princess! She shouldn't be feeling this way. She shouldn't be feeling this wretched. Stifling her sobs, she crouched on the ground, for once in her life feeling afraid and alone. She was so afraid…

How could her father and Eldarion put up with this? Or was she the only one to feel like this? Was she the only one who couldn't stand the sight of the broken bones, who, in battle caused others' deaths, who felt so ashamed and worried if a decision of hers had killed more men than necessary. She just wanted this war to be over, and to be home. Biting her lip, clutching at the roots of her hair, the Princess of Gondor and the White City cried alone beside a battlefield.

Meanwhile, although it was late at night a great host pressed towards Gondor's main city. They were eager for the sight of the white tower and to see their families again. As they came upon the Pelennor fields, a great trumpet call went up from the battlements. Great bells soon took up the call. 

Aragorn dismissed the host on the Pelennor fields. He thanked them for their bravery and courage and then some left to reach their homes, if they did not live in the city.

And so it was a diminished army that rode towards the city. They could see the city light up, as fires and torches were lit. A crowd, each person holding a flaming torch before them, stood in front of the gates, looking anxious, scanning the ranks for a loved one. Some burst into tears of relief, others into tears of dismay.

Aragorn and Eldarion leapt off their horses and went to greet Arwen and Elfwine who stood at the very front of the crowd. The first thing Elfwine said was,

"Where is Atùvinel?"

"Why?" Aragorn asked, worried. "Where is she?"

"You did not know?" Arwen asked, as they began to walk into the citadel, leaving the other citizens to reunite with their men, or bemoan their loss. "Orks came a week ago, Atùvinel left with most of the remaining men to battle them."

"What is this?" Aragorn exclaimed. "I heard nothing of this."

His queen laid a hand on his arm. 

"We heard from her only yesterday, she is fine and they have pushed Agaron's arm back, almost to Minas Morgul. She and the army are at Emyn Arnen."

Eldarion cried out

"We must ride to her aid Father! Summon the troops back!"

"No," he sighed, "They are too weary. But we will send the men who remained here to guard the city to her aid. We must not go with them though."

Both Princes began to argue with him, but he held up a hand to forestall them. 

"We are needed here, to reassure the people of Gondor that Atùvinel is capable to do this, and that we trust her."

But his gaze moved to the East and his eyes were troubled.

Later that night, the King and Queen spoke alone in their rooms,

"They were coming to take Atùvinel?" Aragorn asked, as Arwen nodded, he cursed slightly. "Then Agaron does know of the prophecy." He stared out the window, his face thrown into harsh relief by the moonlight, reflecting every crease in his skin. "We only just got her back Arwen, and now she leaves again, and is in danger of her life."

"I watched my family ride off to battle one by one." Arwen said quietly, from behind him. "First you and my son, and now my daughter. She knew I didn't want to let her go, Elfwine tried to persuade her to stay as well, but she knew what she had to do, even though she was afraid. She is doing her duty."

A hand rested on Atùvinel's shoulder, but she didn't stir, he rolled her over gently, and found that the Princess had cried herself to sleep at last. Slowly, so as not to wake her Bergil picked her up in his arms; as if she were a child and he carried her towards her tent. He had looked after her ever since she was a child. He had helped train her; he had sat with her and discussed anything she wanted. He had bandaged her wounds. To him, she was a younger sister, and he cared for her deeply. He placed her on her bed roll lightly and covered her with the blanket.

He then resumed his usual place outside her tent. If she, a frightened young girl, separated from her family and fighting for her life every day could pretend nothing was amiss in front of the men, and do her duty, so could he.


	17. Chapter Seventeen, Battle Weary

**Chapter seventeen, Battle weary.******

****

The foothills rose high around Atùvinel and her army, as they slowly pushed the Urûkans back, away from Gondor and Minas Tirith. It was a hard battle and a long one, neither side willing to give way. Atùvinel was deep in the middle of the fighting, Bergil on one side, Mandmar on the other, both fighting furiously, keeping more of the enemy at bay and away from her. But a few Urûks broke through and fought with Atùvinel. The White tree on her shield was smeared with black orc blood and the coronet above the branches was barely visible. She hewed an orc's head from his shoulders with ease, her sharp blade barely slowing as it encountered bone. The men of Gondor had one main advantage over their enemy; they were mostly mounted. And most of the war horses of Gondor were trained by the Rohirrim, and they fought as well as any human. But some men had been unhorsed and they fought as best they could on foot, until they were able to ride double with another warrior, took the horse of a slain man, or were slain themselves.

 Nafalon reared as an Urûkan thrust a spear at his chest, when his forefeet landed, it was on the orc. Atùvinel had barely been affected by her steed's movement; she scored a red line across the chest of another, and then sat back slightly, as the press thinned. Standing up in her stirrups she surveyed the battle ground. Her camp lay a mile or so to the south, and they had ridden over the enemy camp last battle, rendering it mostly unusable.

"My lady!" Mandmar pulled her roughly back into the saddle and slightly to the side as an arrow flew. She gasped as it only nicked her arm. If Mandmar hadn't been there she would have died, without question.

"My thanks." She nodded to the Ranger, before lifting her sword into the air and calling the men to her side. She looked them all over as they made their way towards her, they were as exhausted as she, and some were wounded besides. 

She looked to Bergil at her side as he stared at the mass of orcs before them. 

"They are almost finished Princess, some left during the battle. Deserters I imagine."

"We shall make a charge then, to send them into the Black Hills. Have you our banner?"

"Aye Lady." He grinned at her, his white teeth flashing in a weary face.

"Unfurl it then." She raised her voice. "And let us carve the enemy asunder, for such will be the force of the charge of the men of Gondor!"

"And their Lady Narya!" a man called from the mass behind her. 

She smiled broadly, her clear laugh ringing out above the sounds of battle. Most of the enemy had fallen back, to try and form a defensive wall, leaving only a few who dared to face the army of Gondor alone, with out the security of their companions.

Their wall did not avail them when the banner of the Princess of the White City was unfurled and the men of Minas Tirith followed her in an almighty charge. 

Bergil was the first to reach the Urûkans and he knocked aside a spear and crashed into the enemy. Atùvinel and the host followed a scant second later, hacking and hewing at their enemies, horses rising and plunging into the battle as well.

It was a swift ending. Most Urûks either died in the next minutes by sword and spear, or, as they fled, were shot down by bow and arrow. Some made their way into the protection of the hills and the caves, and Atùvinel stopped her men following them, fearing an ambush.

"We have done our duty." She spoke softly, but her words carried on the wind. She was not one for great inspiring speeches, so she continued in the same vein. "Find our injured and dead. The injured return to camp as soon as possible, the dead," she paused for a second. "We shall prepare a mound for."

The men murmured softly and went about her commands with a weary familiarity.

"Princess," One soldier called. "What of the enemy dead."

"Take the carrion to that small hill to the east." Atùvinel commanded. "There they shall burn, as a warning to all enemies of Minas Tirith and Gondor."

The men gave a small cheer, and then went about their sorry tasks.

Atùvinel turned to Bergil, both still mounted,

"I am weary of battle, Bergil. Did I do aright?"

"You did very well for a first command, My Lady, neither your brother, nor the Prince of Rohan could have done better. I swear it." She rested a hand on her shoulder, and she smiled up at him. 

"After the most severely injured are cared for, and the dead are buried, we shall return to Minas Tirith, and I shall tell the Princes that you said that." With a small laugh, she pushed Nafalon into a trot, and then a gallop, making for the large tent where the injured were being carried to, to heal all she could, and ease the passing of those who were beyond her aid.

Bergil watched her go, when he was sure she would not see him, he raised his sword in a salute and, digging the base of their standard into the ground, went to help where he could.


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Trustworthy

**Chapter Eighteen; Trustworthy.**

"Hooom! This is a strange thing you ask of us." Treebeard stared down at the two hobbits. "But then, you always were a hasty folk."

"Will you help us?" Pippin said hastily, before the Ent could begin speaking again.

"The Ents did much before." He said slowly, "and we are now not the strength which we were before. No, Masters Peregrin and Meriadoc, there will be no great march of the Ents again."

The hobbits exchanged a look, they had expected that answer.

"However, we will carry on disposing of Orcs and this new breed if they should wander into our lands. But, I must warn you that they have grown wiser now, and they avoid the forests."

Treebeard stood from the table he was reclining on and easily gathered them up and placed them in his branches. Slowly he began making his way towards the edge of the forest. "Their new master is cleverer then young Saruman was." He continued.

"If men find their way to the forest, will you harm them?"

Treebeard stopped suddenly. "Who is it who sent you to ask these favours from me?" he asked. "You seem very determined."

"We were sent by Aragorn's daughter, Atùvinel." Merry answered

"Why not by Aragorn? Is he dead? I forget that time passes slower for us here in the woods."

"No!" Pippin exclaimed. "At least not to our knowledge. But he is of battling the orcs and Atùvinel his daughter, is the Princess of Gondor he left her in charge when he went to battle."

"I see…" His voice rumbled as he trailed off. "We cannot help you in the way that you ask." He finished eventually, "though the battle you came to ask me about is no doubt over already."

"Yes." Pippin said, "But there will be more battles."

It was early morning when Atùvinel and the men under her command set out to return to Minas Tirith. Their pace was slow, as the wounded were being transported on stretchers sluing between two horses. Although she believed that the remaining orcs had fled into the wilderness and returned to their master in Mordor, on Bergil's advice she had still set a guard on the column, and outriders scouted the road before and after them. It was one of the scouts that brought her the news. He galloped up, beside the column of men until he reached Atùvinel.

"What is it?" She asked, instantly fearing an ambush lay ahead of them.

"There are soldiers approaching us, and they bear the standard of Gondor."

Atùvinel smiled her hand dropping from where it had landed on the hilt of her sword.

"My father must have returned home then, at last, and sent these men to aid us."

Turning to Bergil, who was riding by her side, she commanded,

"Inform all the captains, and have our standard unfurled once more."

He nodded, and went to do her bidding as she rode to the head of the column. The men began to talk softly as she passed, knowing that they were drawing close to their homes and that the other battle had been won.

They rode for a while longer, Atùvinel still at the head of the column, when Bergil rejoined her; she turned to face him, a broad smile on her face.

"Surely Father, or Eldarion, or even the Prince of Rohan will be with the reinforcements?"

"Perhaps they will be Princess, but they may have remained in Minas Tirith." As he saw her face fall he continued, "But we will hear news of them from the captain in any case."

"I…" Before she could continue, another scout rode up to them.

"Your highness, they are but a league away now."

"Good." She beckoned the captain forward,

"Have the trumpeters announce our presence." She ordered. "We don't want to be attacked by our own men."

"Yes, my lady." The man bowed slightly in the saddle and returned to his position before the company, giving orders as he did so. The change in the men was obvious, as soon as the first note from the trumpets rang out, their weary expressions were wiped away and they strode forwards more determinedly. Atùvinel turned back around and smiled broadly, glancing over at her banner flying in the wind. She knew exactly how they felt. Their battles were over, for now at least, and they had been victorious. She hung her shield on the pommel of her saddle and took off her helm, handing it to the man at her side who helped her slip it into one of her saddle bags. She struggled to maintain a serene expression, and failed as her relief and joy shone through.

The captain of the reinforcements rode as warily as they did, having also been warned that an armed host approached them. His men were weary and jumped at any movement, having just come from the Battle of the Wastelands and barely arriving at Minas Tirith before being summoned to ride to Atùvinel's aid.

A cry from the scouts went up as other host was spotted, riding over the crest of the hill. His sword was in his hand without a thought until his second in command laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"Nay My lord Orndor, it is the Lady Narya, I recognise the emblem on her banner. My wife described it to me before we set out."

Orndor slid his blade back into his sheath, a smile forming on his face at the sight of the host, their mail shining silver, not dulled by blood, and the standard flying proudly. He threw up a hand, commanding his men to halt. Only he and his lieutenant rode on to meet Atùvinel and Bergil as they rode ahead of the rest of her troops to greet him.

"Well met Princess Atùvinel, well met."

"And to you, Captain. We ride home from a hard battle." She replied courteously.

"How went the battle?" the captain asked, although he could already guess her answer from the general demeanour of the men following.

"They will not trouble us again."

"Congratulations are due then your highness, for a successful first command."

"Thank you my lord." Her face darkened slightly with worry, "before we turn homewards tell me, what of my father and brother? And the Prince Elfwine? And my mother?"

She was suddenly transformed from a victorious young warrior and commander to an anxious daughter.

"They all are well." Orndor smiled reassuringly. "The Princes both wished to ride with us, but the King bade them stay, as he thought you were more than capable of winning this battle without our help."

She smiled, in pleased embarrassment.

"Then let us return to Minas Tirith, to prove that I was worthy of his trust!"


End file.
